The Billionaire's Masquerade (The Friendship Series) (2 page)

His eyes traveled back up her figure, appreciating all the delicious, appealing details until his eyes reached her face and he couldn’t stop the punch to his gut when he took in her full lips and almond shaped eyes surrounded by thick, black lashes. There was barely any gloss left to shine those lips which only allowed the beautiful, natural color to come through. And those pink, luscious lips were enticing enough but her eyes! Those green eyes were startling!

He wanted to stare into those eyes with the long, thick lashes while he filled her up. He wanted to see what those eyes looked like when she was smiling or sad or, even better, when she was….

He shook his head and tried to remove the erotic images from his mind. Women were a distraction he didn’t need. When he needed a woman’s touch, he had several lady friends in town who were more than accommodating. He definitely didn’t need a wannabe power woman.

“Can I help you?” he asked, enjoying her surprise when she saw him.

Rachel’s eyes snapped to the right and she couldn’t stop the gasp that blew from her lungs when she looked over at the man standing on the ladder by the house. As an avid gym-goer, Rachel knew what a buff, male body looked like. But this man’s physique was beyond anything she’d ever seen. She wasn’t sure how tall he was since he was standing on a ladder, but she suspected that he was taller than the average man. But what was extraordinary were the rippling, amazing muscles that covered his body. It wasn’t like he was a body builder with bulging muscles all over, although there were plenty of those. It was more that there were just muscles….everywhere! He was tall and lithe with those sumptuous, extraordinary muscles covering every part of his body. Her eyes did an inventory of all those muscles, irritated when she couldn’t see past the low riding, well-worn jeans that were just a little bit loose around his hips.

She swallowed painfully when those muscles flexed and she looked up, suddenly realizing that he was moving. Towards her! All those lovely, glistening muscles were descending that ladder, his strong hands flexing as he grasped and un-grasped the ladder while he climbed down and her eyes were drawn to the appearing and disappearing muscles along his arms and back. Everything glistened in the sunshine and she felt like she was going to pass out from the blood rushing through her body at a crazy, pulse pounding rate.

That was when she realized that she’d stopped breathing and she took a gasping breath, trying to quickly regain her equilibrium. She was just starting to find her balance when she realized how tall he was. As he approached, she had to lean her head back farther and farther until he was standing about a foot away from her, towering over her with crystal blue eyes that were so startling, she thought she might just melt into a pool of lust right there on the gravel driveway.

When she realized she was just staring at that gorgeous expanse of tanned, muscled chest with her fingers and palms itching to touch all that glorious skin, she closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her embarrassment painful.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked softly, feeling cold now that her heated eyes weren’t traveling up and down his body.

She didn’t like the breathy sound of her voice, but she really didn’t like the way she’d objectified this stranger. She’d treated him abominably and she was ashamed. “I was looking at you inappropriately,” she admitted, stiffening her shoulders and trying to look anywhere but at his chest. Didn’t the man have a shirt?

His soft laughter melted over her tense shoulders until he said, “Don’t worry about it. I was doing the same to you before you realized I was here.”

She humphed at that and looked at the cottage, at the beaten up old truck with all the painting equipment and tools piled in the back. She wasn’t exactly sure how to react to that, but wished she hadn’t blushed so brightly. “Well, still….”

“What brings you out to Cape Elizabeth?” he interrupted gently.

Rachel stared at her hands, then back at the cottage again. “I’m…um…” it took her several seconds to remember why she’d actually come here. She looked around…the bushes, the gravel drive, the cottage…none of it made sense with this gorgeous, muscled stranger standing in front of her. All her mind could think and wonder about was how much she wanted to touch his skin, to taste him and bury her nose….

Good grief! She’d never reacted to a man like this before and she was horrified at her undisciplined behavior!

Focus! She wasn’t here to gawk!

What was she doing here? And where was the man’s shirt?! “Oh…I’m looking for someone,” she answered, relieved when her memory returned. Was that piece of fabric draped over the bannister of the front porch his shirt?

She stepped around the extremely large male and walked over to the piece of fabric and picked it up, refusing to lift it to her nose to smell it. Surely it smelled awful, wouldn’t it? But the man didn’t smell. At least not bad. There was something….just right about the way he smelled despite the sweat covering all those fabulous, taut muscles.

She handed the shirt to him delicately, silently indicating he should put the shirt on and cover himself in front of her.

Unfortunately, the subtle hint didn’t really work because the obnoxious man just tossed that shirt over his shoulder. Rachel wasn’t sure if she was irritated that he hadn’t covered up some of those muscles or if she was relieved that he hadn’t put the shirt on and covered all of them so she could speak with him intelligently. His exposed chest was making her stupid!

“Who are you looking for?” he asked, wiping his hands on a rag he dug out of the back of the truck.

“He’s probably your employer,” she said carefully, looking down to check her red shoes. “Mr. Emerson Watson.”

“Why do you want to talk to him?” the stranger asked.

Rachel looked at him curiously. Why had he gone tense for that fraction of a second? He must not like his employer, Rachel sighed. If everything she’d heard about Mr. Watson was true, she wasn’t going to enjoy working for him either.

She looked around, desperate to focus once more on her mission but she was having trouble with him standing there with his bare chest looking so enticing! “Could you please put that shirt on?” she snapped, glaring at him.

Emerson suppressed his chuckle, enjoying her discomfort. “Why? It’s hot and I have a lot of work to do today.”

Her hand covered her stomach which refused to stop fluttering like a silly school girl in front of her first crush. “It isn’t appropriate!” she almost growled. She flung her hands behind her back, afraid she might actually move closer to him and explore all of those impressive muscles.

“It’s certainly appropriate when scraping paint. The flecks get everywhere. I don’t want to ruin my shirt,” he replied, grinning down at her. He didn’t mind watching her wiggle since he was having just as much trouble controlling his own reaction to her closeness. He liked knowing he wasn’t the only one in this conversation that was impacted. Besides, he thought as he looked down into her green eyes, she was cute in addition to having a smoking hot body. It had been a very long time since he’d been around a woman like her. And he’d never reacted like this to any woman. “Why do you want to talk to Emerson? I’ve heard people call him some pretty bad names.”

Rachel’s eyes snapped up to his. “Really?” she asked, instantly worried. Then she regained control of herself. Shaking her head, she looked away again. “Never mind. I don’t care if he’s a horrible human being. I want to work for him anyway. So if you would be kind enough to direct me to him, I’d be very much obliged.” She forced a polite smile to her face, still trying to ignore her racing heartbeat.

Emerson almost chuckled at her cute, determined expression that did nothing to hide her nervousness. “There’s a house at the end of this driveway. It’s possible that who you’re looking for is there.”

“Possible?” she asked, hearing the improbability in the way he phrased that question. “So you don’t think he’s there now?”

Emerson shrugged, enjoying her honest reactions. The instant she knew who he was, the façade would go up and he’d get the rehearsed speech, the professional demeanor and she probably had practiced looking like a hard-edged investment broker in front of her mirror. He liked the softer, more insecure woman standing in front of him now. She was beautiful, soft and sexy. Not to mention, he really liked her shoes.

“There’s a ninety percent chance that he’s out and about. Who would spend time indoors on a day like today?”

The woman looked up into the sky as if she were seeing the clear blue sky and bright sunshine for the first time. “I suppose,” she replied, scrunching up her nose. Emerson saw the impatience in her face, and the irritation that her goal for the day was being delayed and suppressed another chuckle.

“Would you like something to drink? You look a bit thirsty.”

Rachel quickly shook her head but the man was already walking over to the beat up truck and reaching his long arm into the rusty trailer. She was so fascinated by the play of muscles over his shoulders and back as he reached in, she forgot to speak. By the time she found her voice again, he already had a bottle of water in each hand and was walking back towards her, extending one of the bottles.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling parched now that she saw the cold-looking water.

He even opened the bottle for her and she carefully took it, not wanting to touch him in the transfer process. But then he lifted his bottle of water to his lips and her mouth fell open as she watched the muscles in his neck while he drank down the water, her lips aching to kiss the tanned skin on that neck, explore the Adam’s apple there and move ever so slowly downwards to touch the ridges in his abdomen.

She jumped when he said, “Not thirsty?”

“Um…” she hesitated for a split second longer, then tore her eyes away and looked at the bottle of water. She hurriedly lifted the water to her lips and took a long, cooling draw, wishing it could cool down her suddenly raging libido.

“Thank you,” she said, carefully wiping her mouth. “I was thirsty and didn’t think to bring any water out here.”

“Most people don’t realize how long the driveway is.”

“Why is it so long?” she asked, more curious about this man standing in front of her than her hopeful employer at the moment. “And why isn’t it wide enough for a car to get through?”

The tall man shrugged slightly, drawing her eyes back to those spectacular, broad shoulders. “It’s more private this way, I suppose. People still find their way down here though.”

She flushed, realizing that she’d come here uninvited herself. “Yes, well…I’m on a mission,” she explained, smiling up at him with a return of her determination. “Emerson Watson is one of the best investment bankers in the industry and I’m determined to become his next intern.”

The man’s dark eyebrows went up and he leaned against the bannister of the front porch. “Why would you want to do something boring like that?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it be nicer to work outside in the sunshine or take a long walk down the coast?”

Rachel laughed. “I’ve done quite enough exploring in my life, thank you,” she answered, thinking of her childhood in rural Virginia. She’d hated living out in the country with nothing to do, no neighbor for several miles and boredom kicking in from the moment she woke up in the morning until she went to sleep at night. If it weren’t for books and reading as well as her best friends Nikki and Brianna later on in elementary school, she would have gone crazy a long time ago. “I much prefer the city life.”

“You live in New York now?”

She grimaced slightly, but was thrilled that he would think that of her. “No. I wish. I actually work in Washington, D.C.,” she replied. “There’s a pretty active investing world down there as well. As is the case in most major cities.” She blushed, wondering why she was explaining the investing world to this man. It seemed odd somehow. “K Street in downtown Washington, D.C. is busy with the area being surrounded by tall buildings and lots of hustle and bustle, but it’s nothing like Wall Street.”

“And you want to be on Wall Street, I take it?”

She smiled and nodded her head. “I think that would be the ultimate joy, being among all those people who know how to make the financial world move and shift. It must be fabulous to hear all those rumors floating around, to figure out how to use those rumors to make money for one’s clients or just to see the determination in everyone’s eyes and know that you’re just like them. Just as hard driving and efficient.” She shrugged slightly, her fingers gripping the water bottle nervously. “K Street is fine. But I want the real thing. I want Wall Street and the fastest way to get there is to be taught by the best.”

“And Watson is the best?” he asked.

Rachel laughed. “He has no equal. So even if he is the worst person in the world, I think I could still learn a great deal from him.” She blinked, realizing that she hadn’t even introduced herself. “I’m sorry! I’m Rachel Carson,” she said and extended her hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your day with my silly story,” she said with a smile, almost bracing herself for his touch.

Emerson looked at her delicate, tiny hand and wanted to shake her. What she wanted existed, but he knew that she would hate it. Hell, he’d been reading people all his life, knowing what made them tick just from a short conversation. It was one of the reasons he was so successful. And he knew instantly that Rachel Carson would die a slow, painful death in New York City. “You can call me Jack,” he said and enfolded her tiny hand in his large one, holding her still, feeling the warmth and vitality of her skin.

Rachel looked down at their hands, her heart pounding so rapidly it almost felt like it was about to burst out of her chest with the contact. She tried to pull away, but he held her hand firmly and her eyes glanced upwards, colliding with his blue ones once again.

“I have to go,” she whispered, praying that he would release her hand. She didn’t like this feeling, didn’t like knowing she was helpless, controlled by the power of his touch.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stood there, holding her hand in his larger one, feeling the trembling and resisting the urge to wrap her into his arms and tell her to run as far away from Wall Street as possible. Instead, he held her tiny hand with the delicate bones, trying to suffuse her body with his strength. “Why?” he asked softly, his curiosity about this woman growing.